The Princess and the Plumber
by Your Pyroclastic Flow
Summary: Peach cooks dinner for Mario and herself one night, hoping for a chance to chat and relax after escaping from Bowser's clutches for the umpteenth time. What starts out as an ordinary date turns into a twisting of fate as the two reveal their feelings.


**Author's Notes: **Ta da! My first-ever Mario fanfiction! I almost died from laughing by the end of it! Er, not that it's super funny or anything, it's just... See for yourself. It turned out pretty cute, I think. This is dedicated to SesshouMario.

(Please excuse Mario's poor dialect; I wasn't too sure how I should write him, so uh, yeah... I hope he didn't come out too badly. Probably out of character there, but... Oh! Darnjit! Like I said before, first Mario fanfiction!)

**The Princess and the Plumber**

1

Princess Peach took the cookies out of the oven, wearing her poofy pink oven mitts decorated with little white flowers and red mushrooms, and set the sheet on the cooling rack beside the sink. _It's nice to do my own cooking for once_, she thought, picking the oven mitts off her hands and setting them aside. As the cookies cooled off, she walked over to the small table Toadsworth had set up earlier for her and her guest, lifting her dress just slightly in order to avoid tripping over the hem.

The table was a fine, sturdy wood, polished to a bright sheen which you could see your reflection in. On it lay a simple pink tablecloth, on top of which were two of the finest china plates the servants could scrounge up for her. They were a clean, pearly white, with golden lines forming flowery decor along the edges. Beside the plates, in proper assortment, were the utensils necessary to eat the meal: a fork, a spoon, and a knife each, the former two on the left side of the plates, the last on the right.

Peach sat in one of the big red velvet and mahogany chairs, adjusting herself so that her apparel would not be wrinkled or ruined in any way, shape, or form before her guest arrived. She took a few nervous breaths and placed her hands in front of her on the table. _Don't get so worked up_, she told herself. _It's only Mario._ And when had she ever had a reason to be nervous around Mario? Never. That was the problem. He had always been so kind and respectful toward her, a complete and utter gentleman: compassionate, polite, clean (when he had the time to bathe before formal occasions, that is. All that running around and fighting off the Koopa King was sure to leave him in an unhygienic mess from time to time), patient, cool-headed, and an all-around dear to be around. Perhaps it was because of this that she had a case of jitters. Mario spent most his time rescuing her and the rest of the Mushroom Kingdom with most admirable eagerness. She felt as though, despite her regal status, she were below him.

Yes, she was more than convinced that a plumber suited the job as ruler of the Mushroom Kingdom better than she did. Staring down at her white-gloved hands didn't help, either. Slender, delicately-curved fingers, soft, easily-bruised skin. These hands looked to her as though they had never done a day's worth of hard work in their life. And for the most part, that was true. Just what had she managed to do in her time besides get kidnapped over and over again with the occasional possession by thousand-year-old spirits? Make dinner for her and Mario. For tonight.

After their time in Rogueport, Peach decided it was high time to give Mario something extra special for being such a good sport and saving the world again. So she had convinced Toadsworth and the others to allow her to cook on her own and have the evening to herself and Mario. What with all the excitement that went on day by day, he could probably use a quiet dinner. The bowl of ziti was set and steaming in the middle of the table, a bottle of wine next to it. She hadn't planned for this to be a romantic dinner, and told herself again and again that it wasn't, but that didn't stop her from thinking—from _hoping_—that it was. She had come to adore Mario in a way which at their first meeting she could not imagine possible.

Now, thinking about him seemed to set her heart on fire. Sometimes she feared that the blue gem on her chest would turn as red as Mario's hat if she continued to daydream about him like this. His blue eyes, his dark brown hair, his blue overalls and red shirt, white gloves, his trademark cap, and that oh-so-manly mustache, why, even his big nose and pot belly, short stature, thick Italian accent and strong, silent guy composure... His smile... She giggled out loud, finding her strong liking for such a man somewhat comic, and then covered her mouth in embarrassment, hoping none of the servants heard. There was nothing _wrong_ with liking Mario; he was a perfectly likable man and, as mentioned before, a wonderful gentleman and role model, it was just that... She was a princess. And in all the stories she heard as a child, the beautiful princess married the handsome prince at the end and lived happily ever after. Oh, what was she fooling herself for? Mario _was_ handsome. In fact, he was probably more handsome than most of the princes described in the fairy tales. It was because he was unique, unique and humble and well-to-do. There was no denying it any more: she had ultimately fallen in love with him. But how was she to tell him? And what was she to do... if he did not share her feelings?

The concept of that last was a burden on her mind. As soon as the idea came to her, her insides seemed to sag. All these years and Mario didn't share her love... _Gah. Don't be silly. He _has_ to like you; he's saved you all these times, hasn't he! If he didn't like you, he wouldn't have been motivated to do so! _That being the final straw on the matter, she rose from the table and went to check on the cookies. Now that they had cooled, she piled them together on a plate to be saved later for dessert. While she was doing this, she glanced up at the clock. _He should be here any moment now..._

Several minutes passed. Peach found herself wandering from room to room, listening closely for any sign of Mario at the door, jumping at the slightest noise, and turning out disappointed when she found out it wasn't him, but a Toad servant making last minute adjustments to make the castle a little more cozy for a guest to feel comfortable in. The clock eventually tick-tocked to half an hour later, and the dinner Peach prepared had gotten cold. The servants seemed just as disheartened as their princess, and every now and then would give her a reassuring pat on the hand and a small, doubtful smile and say, "Don't worry; he'll be here soon." Peach only nodded and found refuge at the window. _I know he'll come. He'll be here. I know it. He'll be here soon. He's probably on his way right now... He may be almost here..._

Another half-hour went by, and still not a trace of Mario. The servants had taken up the meal and put it in the refrigerator to warm up later when—if—Mario arrived. Her stomach told her she was hungry. Her mind told her he'd be here soon. Within the next hour, she was pacing in front of the window, giving woeful glances outside as the moon rose higher into the dark, starry sky. She would have thought this view romantic had it not been for the circumstances. It was sad how the mixture of disappointment and determined hope would flood your mind just enough to cause you to lose interest in everything else you loved and dreamed for on any other day.

Just as she was about to give up and head to her chambers, Toadsworth shouted gleefully and called for her to come to the door, Master Mario had arrived at last. Peach hurried to where he was, forgetting to lift her skirts and consequently tripping over them and down the stairs. Once she stopped rolling, she forced herself out of her daze, ignoring the pain in her shoulder and leg, picked up the crown which had fallen off her head, and ran, carrying it in one hand and her skirts in the other, the rest of the way toward the front entrance. Once she arrived, her hair mussed, her heart beating, her lungs working quickly, she placed her crown back on her head and gazed before her. There, as Toadsworth promised, was her beloved Mario. He was looking a bit bashful, eyeing her from below his cap. He also had his hands behind his back, a sure way to tell he was hiding something in his hands.

"Good-a evening, Princess," he said while stepping forward. She nodded and blushed.

"Good evening to you, as well, Mario. May I ask you what took you so long to get here?" Now Mario took his turn to blush and stare at his feet.

"Well... It-a went something like-a this... I was-a on my way when I ran into Goombella... And-a you know how Goombella is... She started talking like we haven't talked for years, and when I was finally able to be on-a my way, Luigi caught-a up to me and asked me to deliver a message to one of his friends, but on the way there I was stopped by a few trouble-making Koopas, and-a then... Well... Things got a little ugly. After-a that, I found out that the road was blocked, and had to go around the long way."

"I see. So you've had a busy night." She offered a rather weak smile. "Nothing a bite to eat couldn't fix up." He returned her smile, a little more boldly.

"Thank-a you, Princess," he said, and turned his eyes to the floor. "Er... It's-a not much, but this is for you..." From behind his back came his hand... and in his hand, he held a flower. Her eyes sparkled when she saw it. Though it was only a single flower, it was possibly the most beautiful spectacle she had seen in years. Its center was not the ordinary yellow, but a bright red. As the color spread out, the red became darker along the edges and grew into white, which blended with a periwinkle blue, which darkened to cerulean, into indigo, and just along the outer edges of the petals was a thin line of pink. The colors blended so well, she feared that if she stared too long, they may form circles before her eyes. Yet as strange and lulling as this plant was, she thought she remembered seeing one of a similar breed before, when she was younger. Try as she might, the memory of it would not come out, and so she decided it must not be all that important. After all, it was only a flower.

She accepted this gift with trembling fingers, the heartfelt warmth and gratitude being so overwhelming. "Th-thank you, Mario. It's lovely." Her plumber friend beamed, and she leaned down to kiss the tip of his nose. He blushed deeply as she backed away, which pleased her.

2

They sat across from each other at the table, Princess Peach Toadstool and Mario Mario. Not a solitary Toad was in sight. All servants had been dismissed from the room so as to give the princess and the plumber utmost privacy. All the better to relax and have a casual dinner. Or, at least, that was what Peach kept telling herself. She got to thinking that she may want the privacy for something different, to say something she was not comfortable in saying around her servants, but whenever that thought occurred, she pushed it away as though it didn't matter. It wasn't important. What had she to say to Mario, the one who had rescued her all these times? The one who had saved the Mushroom Kingdom from numerous perils over and over again? "Thank you" wasn't enough anymore. How could you just say "thank you" to someone who had done so much for you? Someone you owed your life to? That your _people_ owed their lives to? "Thank you" was used up and dried out and didn't have meaning anymore. It was just another phrase which people automatically responded "You're welcome" to, just as when you ask how someone is, they automatically respond with "Good."

She stared down at her plate of pasta, slowly raising the fork to her mouth. Even though she had been friends with Mario for so long, she felt as though she knew hardly anything about him. It startled her. What reason had he for saving her if they knew so little about each other?

"Mario," she said, putting her fork back on the plate without so much as touching the pasta to her lips, "I've been wondering for awhile... How is it that you manage to do everything you do and still get up to do it again without complaint? Don't you ever get tired of it?"

"Get tired of-a what, Princess?" her companion asked in a tone which expressed complete oblivion. Peach balled her hands into fists under the table and answered firmly:

"How is it that you can risk your life time and time again all for the sake of saving _me_? Most men would have given up on me now; what do you expect to gain from doing this all the time? I can only offer so much, and all you ever seem to accept is a few coins, a cake, and a letter of thanks! You can't even be called a plumber anymore! Just how much time do you spend doing your actual job!"

"Ah, well," Mario flushed, most prominently on his nose, "not-a much..."

"Precisely!" Peach huffed and stood; the chair was pushed back with a loud grating noise on the floor. "If you ask me, I think you need to spend a little more time fixing pipes than fighting Bowser! You can't go on doing this forever! It's unfair to you _and_ your brother! I've become a little too dependent on you rescuing me, and—"

"Princess..."

"—there's more to life than trouncing Koopas and saving damsels in distress! Don't you ever long for a vacation? Even when you _try_ to get a vacation, it all ends up in a mess!"

"Princess..."

"One of these days you'll get sick from all the stress. No one man can carry the weight of the world on his shoulders all the time! But that's exactly what you do! I don't understand it! You can keep the world from ultimate destruction day by day as though it were as simple as waking up in the morning! Well! I won't allow you to do it anymore!"

"Princess?"

"Absolutely no more! I forbid it! All of your trouble is because of me! Because I can't take care of myself, because I'm too dependent on you! I'm telling you, things are going to be very different from here on! I'm going to take care of myself, I'm not going to get kidnapped, and I prohibit you from doing so silly a thing as rescuing me!"

"Princess."

"_Stop _calling me 'Princess'! Call me Peach!"

"Peach."

"Yes, Mario?" She breathed deeply to calm herself down; that speech was much more than she intended, but once she started she found it hard to stop. It was, she supposed, the release of a long-held tension. Her bosom certainly felt lighter now that some of it was out at last, but there was a lingering pain there, hidden beyond her reach. She wasn't sure what it was or when it would come out, but she _did_ know that until that left her, too, she would not sleep well.

Mario nodded solemnly in her direction. "You have a bit of sauce on-a your dress..."

Peach looked downward. Spying the streak of orange-red sauce peppered with colorful herbs clashing on her soft pink dress, she took a napkin from the table and began wiping it off. Once it was as gone as she could make it, she sat in her chair and sighed, hunched over in the slightest. She was worn and agitated, but too tired to be outright irritable.

Once she was settled, Mario pushed his plate aside and folded his hands on the table. "What-a is your real question, Prin—Peach? Do you want-a to know _how_ I do it, or _why_ I do it?" She lifted her head to look at him and considered.

"A little bit of both, I guess." Her voice was timid, barely audible if not for the quiet of the room. "It makes no sense to me as to why anyone would want to put themselves in such stressful situations time and time again."

"To tell-a you the absolute truth, Peach," Mario said, in the most solemn manner she had ever heard him speak, "I cannot imagine the Mushroom Kingdom without you." He paused to clear his throat; she watched him, anxious for him to continue. He did, but only once he stood from the table, went toward the window, and looked out into the kingdom below. The citizens of the Mushroom Kingdom were now warm and cozy inside their houses, having put their children into bed and snuggled up by their fireplaces with a good book in hand. "You have watched over this-a kingdom for years, and it has flourished under your rule, despite-a how many times Bowser has interfered. If no one was around to-a protect you, he would only destroy the kingdom sooner than if you had no one to depend on. In a way, he knows he can't-a do what he wants when he wants to, because I'll-a be here to keep you safe. I know what you're-a thinking, 'Why would you want-a to keep me safe?' Well... The reason is, Princess... I love-a the Mushroom Kingdom. And I love-a you, Peach."

Mario turned back around to face her, his entire face glowing with blood-flow. His eyebrows were tilted downward as though he were guilty of some terrible crime. Peach found herself breathless; her bosom was lightened instantly. She felt warm all over, filled with such emotion that if it was not expressed, she would burst with it instantly. She jumped up from the table and ran over to him, pulling him close to her.

She held his head up, her hand under his chin, so that she could look into his eyes, and nearly cried when she saw what they expressed. The only thing keeping her from doing such was the welling of all the other emotions, but for once, there were no questions racing in her mind. There was nothing more to question about. It was definite now; it was all cleared up. It was clearer than it had ever been, but there was just the tiniest bit of fog blocking the pure, honest view of it. She understood it was her duty to clear that fog away.

"I love you, too, Mario. I always have. You can't possibly understand how worried I become whenever you face off with Bowser. I feel like I could die for you." She leaned down to kiss him.

"Oh, but I do, Princess," he said once their first kiss was executed, "I understand just how you feel, Peach."

He kissed her again.

**The Princess and the Plumber/END**


End file.
